


Bright Eyes

by youguysarelosers



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Peter Parker, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Just Want That Goddamn Trailer, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, I’m sad, Michelle is Whipped, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Has Anxiety, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is whipped, Pining, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Spider-Man: Far From Home, This Is STUPID, post-Avengers: Endgame, this is shitty, tony stark is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youguysarelosers/pseuds/youguysarelosers
Summary: “Can you... can you stay with me?” He said in a barely audible voice, eyes looking up at her ever so pleadingly. Behind his words lay some deeper, hidden meaning MJ caught up on."Always", she wanted to say, though she couldn’t find the courage to. She climbed into his tiny bed and pulled him into a tight hug instead, his face buried on her chest and hers resting lazily on his messy curls.ORPeter Parker is messed up after the events of Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame and finds some comfort in his more-than-a-friend MJ.[This fic was written before endgame and ffh, therefore it is not canon compliant]





	Bright Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> okay so uhhh this is a mess i'm sorry BUT sony is a lil bitch and won't give us our well deserved petermj content so i said FUCK IT I'LL DO IT MYSELF,,,
> 
> the title is inspired by sleeping at last's cover of total eclipse of the heart. the lyrics reminded me of the plot (i bet you can even spot some references throughout this whole thing) and i love it sooo much. go listen to it. seriously, go listen to it and then read this to have the full experience!!
> 
> tw// anxiety and panic attacks, ptsd, mention of abusive home.
> 
> this takes place after iw and a4 and before the ffh. i decided to refer to the snap as "the dusting" since we don't have an official in-universe name yet. also, tony's dead. enjoy.

Everything was orange. Except orange was all there really _was_.

No trees, no sky, no clouds, no ground… Just empty shades of orange spiraling around him, often changing from burning red to yellow.

Peter felt just as though he was floating (and yet, he felt oddly heavy) in this strange, bubble of fog. He had never felt something quite like it. He glanced all around trying to find something. _Anything_ , really. The orange hue had started making him feel… uneasy. Weird. As if he was forgetting something. Something important. But he couldn’t quite remember…

His feet suddenly felt colder, as though they were… wet?

He looked down to discover that there now was ground below him, and that he was standing on a low pool of water that had completely soaked the bottom of his old sneakers. The faintest of breezes blew meek waves on the surface of the water. There were wispy clouds of gold and honey over his head now too, and a brighter yellow light drew a blurry horizon, separating the ground and what resembled a sky. The place looked strangely familiar.

Huh.

When it hit him, it felt like punch in the gut.

He was back there.

_Oh no._

Peter started feeling short of breath and his eyes stung from the tears that were forming. He gasped for air, hands clutching his chest as his heart thudded uncontrollably.

_This isn’t real. This can’t be real._

A very specific set of feelings he had gotten quite acquainted with for the last few weeks were starting to take over his body. His hands tingling, his chest tightening, his body shaking, his vision distorted...

There was nothing he could do but let it all consume him.

Slowly. Excruciatingly.

He asked for help. His cries and pleads tore through him like a shard of glass. He did not want to be there again. He wanted to go home.

_No, no, no, please._

Echoing over the sound of his pleads, a voice spoke loud and clear.

“ _Peter_.” it called.

The voice quickly became two, three, four, five…

Where were they coming from?

As he turned around, Peter realized that they were not _just_ voices. They had bodies, faces and names of their own. 

The people he loved the most were standing right in front of him. People he had already lost, and people he hoped he’d never have to. They were shouting his name frantically, eyes wide in fear. The sound of his heartbeat in his eardrums was replaced by their loud screams, and he was convinced it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

Peter knew what was going to happen next, he knew it well. It was inevitable.

His breath hitched as they all, one by one, started to fade into dust before him. With tears in his eyes, he tried to reach out for them but his hand went right through their scattering ashes. He stood there, unable to do anything but stare at his hands in disbelief.

Something inside him started to tingle, it was a familiar feeling on the back of his skull he knew was a warning. 

It was certain: this was far from over. 

The pain had started as soft, little pinches all over his body, but it ramped up to searing, blinding agony in a matter of seconds. He shouted at the top of his lungs just as he felt (and saw) every fiber of him being ripped apart. 

He just wanted it all to stop.

And then it just did.

He woke up from his dream with a jump that made him bang his forehead with something that he’d later find out was the top bunk of his bed. The hit got him so disoriented that he couldn’t actually feel the pain it shot through his whole body. Besides, his sudden change of surroundings seemed much more deserving of his attention at the moment.

There were no orange clouds above him anymore. His feet no longer touched the wet ground. He wasn’t floating either, and something about the air felt much different. As if he was a mere observer of it all, Peter felt like he was nothing but a stranger in his own body and mind. He glanced around the dark, strange place he was. That was his room… that was his bed. Those were also his hands, his legs, his clothes… but still, he couldn’t recognize any of it. It all seemed distorted, unreal.

Something was off.

He was not feeling any pain, he noticed. The kind of writhing ache he went through when he dusted was all gone. However, something laid heavy on his chest. Peter felt it grow rapidly bigger, constricting his breathing as it expanded. 

It was not pain.

Not exactly.

This was different, though it was just as horrible: Pure, sheer panic.

It wouldn’t let go of him. It wrapped his body like a heavy blanket, and experience had taught him that all he could do was lay under it.

Defeated.

Alone.

 

\----

 

MJ woke up to the unpleasant sound of Ned’s snoring in her ear. 

Peter’s sofa was normally a comfortable place to sleep in. But sharing it? Not the best idea.

 _What is he even doing here?_ She thought.

That was her sofa.

Whenever they stayed over at Peter’s home she’d take the sofa (despite Peter often offering his bed to her instead), Peter would take the bottom bunk of his bed and Ned the top bunk. That’s just the way it was. That sofa had also become her bed (of sorts) ever since The Dusting, where she crashed to keep May company most days after Peter’s disappearance (and to get away from the chaos that was her family too, but that she'd never admit)

And yet there was Ned: spread all over _her_ sofa, taking up almost all of _her_ space.

She got up with a deep sigh and walked over to the single couch chair on the opposite side of her stolen sofa and tried to make herself comfortable, accepting her sad fate. She’d give Ned a piece of her mind in the morning. 

Something, however, caught her attention before she could fall back to sleep. Quiet, muffled cries coming from Peter’s room reverberated through the tiny living room.

Michelle’s bare feet thudded on the floor as she rushed to Peter’s door and, without much forethought on her part, opened it swiftly. This went unnoticed by Peter though, who was still miles deep into his own mind.

If MJ had any trace of sleepiness left by then, it was gone the instant she saw Peter curled up on the bottom bunk bed. 

Her heart sank.

He was sitting, his arms hugging his legs while his head rested on his knees. He mumbled some random words under his shaky breath that MJ failed to decode.

She had never quite seen him like... this. So broken. So vulnerable. Though it was just a matter of time, she reckoned.

May had previously warned her that he hadn’t come back the same as before. She had witnessed parts of it, too. The Dusting had taken him away from her, and in more ways than one.

Fighting Thanos personally, getting dusted, having to spend months trapped in another dimension and coming back _just in time_ to have your mentor die in front you was no picnic, that's for sure.

Only a few weeks had passed since the Avengers had saved the universe (or what was left of it) yet again and since everyone that got dusted, including Peter, came back. The weak smile he had plastered on his face the moment he showed up at the doorstep after months of being gone would remain engraved on her mind forever. Both May and Ned were there too, and it all quickly became a mess of tears and hugs. He didn’t talk much about what had happened, and after that he spent the most days locked up in his room. He barely ate. Well, he barely did _anything_.

His smiles started to look forced and he didn't joke around that much anymore. He was giving his superhero gig a rest too, but the bags under his eyes made clear he wasn't getting much sleep either. And the classic Leeds, Parker & Jones Friday movie marathons? He had missed most of them since he got back.

They understood. Of course they did. Everything was still _too_ much for him. But still, seeing him like that, so... not himself? That wasn't easy on them either.

She walked over to him in a slow pace and knelt down in front of the bed, hesitant about what to do next. 

Sure, MJ had some experience when it came to dealing with panic and anxiety attacks. Growing up in an abusive household kind of did that to you sometimes. But in any case, she knew how to deal with _her_ panic attacks. Not someone else’s. She was afraid she’d make things worse instead of helping, (and for the record, people touching her or comforting her in the middle of her attacks often  _did_ make things worse for her) but she figured she had to at least _try._

His name came out of her mouth like a whisper as she touched his shoulder softly, testing the waters. His muscles tensed up at her touch, but he didn’t flinch away. Good. She then slowly reached his back and started rubbing it soothingly. 

MJ also tried to get him out his haze by engaging a conversation, muttering things along the lines of “Can you hear me? Try to breath with me, c'mon” or “You’re okay, it’ll be over soon” every once in a while. Peter did not once respond, but at least he wasn’t reacting negatively to her crappy attempt of comforting him.

They stayed like that for about twenty minutes, Peter’s erratic breathing filling the room as MJ sat by him. To MJ, the whole thing felt rather intimate.

When his breathing was close to normal again and he was starting to come back to his senses, he lifted his head.

“...MJ?” he said, finally looking at her. His face was red and puffy. His cheeks were still wet from crying and some strands of his hair were stuck on his sweaty forehead. She just gave him a soft side smile.

“Are you feeling any better?” She asked. 

He glanced at her with a disoriented look on his face. He was so confused. Was his mind playing weird tricks on him? Was he finally going insane? As far as he knew, she had faded into dust before him just moments ago. He saw it with his own two eyes, he was so sure...

“MJ, I... was there again. I saw May and Ned... Ben, Mr Stark... They all just- You too, you were gone and I couldn’t save you-” he stuttered with a hysterical look on his face. He was still taking everything in and trying to understand what had happened.

“But I’m right here, Peter. And you’re here too. You’re home” She moved her hand from his back to wrap her hand on his, squeezing it. 

 _Woah, woah, woah. WOAH_.

Michelle’s brain completely shut down at her own sudden action of boldness. “It was probably just a bad dream, that’s all.” Feeling her hand on his helped him calm down, but it also sent some different kind of nervousness down his spine he tried to ignore. 

“It… was just a bad dream.” he repeated after a while, and it it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He took a deep breath as he finally came to himself completely. For Peter, it was still very difficult to separate nightmare from reality when his reality was still quite a freaking mess. He was home now, sure, but it was what he had gone through to get back there that haunted him. It was hard to move on from it. Especially when he had to relive it everyday in his mind. He wiped his tears away with a nervous chuckle, trying to lighten the atmosphere. If anything, he did not want to trouble MJ with his… stuff. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all this. I’m guess I’m still... you know-”

“You don’t need to apologize, Peter” The words fell right out of her mouth, cutting him off. “We’re…” A gulp. A blink. “ _Friends_. This is what friends are for.” Her inner self wanted to punch her in the face for being so damn obvious. Peter nodded slowly and gave her one of his endearing tight lipped smiles. 

His eyes then fell to his hand and noticed how hers was still wrapped (and very tightly, for that matter) around it. She must have noticed his staring because she released his hand and got up abruptly. Peter sensed some kind of anxious vibe oozing from her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her.

Michelle Jones thought she knew better than going around holding Peter Parker’s hand like it meant nothing. Because it definitely meant _something_. 

It meant months of pining and secret gazes, it meant awkward compliments, it meant casual movie marathons that consisted of them discreetly glancing at each other every five and a half minutes. It meant detailed sketches and sneaky photos, it meant buying each other tea and coffee just _because_ and it meant midnight texting about their favorite songs and their biggest fears. It also meant sleepless nights wondering if they'd ever get to see each other again after Peter went away.

It meant quite a lot and they both knew it. And they both knew they knew. They just never got the chance to actually address it. Sometimes she thought they were better off like that.

(Spoiler alert: they weren’t)

The siren on MJ’s mind went off instantly, reminding her it was time to escape. 

“I, uh... I guess I should go back to, uh... sleep.” Her hands were fidgety and she seemed flustered. It was cute, Peter thought. Refreshing. So different from her nonchalant, cool persona. He felt strangely lucky to be able to witness that part of her come out into the open. To be able to discover all these new things about her. Like the way she stuttered when she was embarrassed, or the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when he smiled at her, or the way she looked away when he stared at her for too long.

The thought of a future where he’d be able to keep discovering things about her every day flashed through his mind. He couldn’t help but think about how great of a future that’d be.

MJ turned to face the door, all set and ready to get going, but she couldn’t leave. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she literally _couldn’t_ leave.

“Em.” Peter grabbed at her wrist, stopping her on her tracks. He didn't even know what came over him then.

 _Go, Michelle. Don’t look back at him. Just go, for the love of God_.

MJ wanted to be able to listen to inner self, to be rational, but she turned around and faced him again like nothing ever mattered more.

_Oh, come on._

 “Can you... can you stay with me?” He said in a barely audible voice, eyes looking up at her ever so pleadingly. Behind his words lay some deeper, hidden meaning MJ caught up on. 

 _Always_ , she wanted to say, though she couldn’t find the courage to. She climbed into his tiny bed and pulled him into a tight hug instead, his face buried on her chest and hers resting lazily on his messy curls.

MJ’s mind had already given up on her at this point, honestly.

Peter’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and sighed into her frame, relishing in the scent of her. Something about it felt familiar, homely. It felt _right_.

MJ allowed her slim fingers to run through the hair on the back of his head and the base of his neck, wondering if he’d be able to hear the loud thumps of her traitorous heart.

She secretly hoped he would.

 

\----

 

A few hours had passed and their steady breaths were the only sound perceivable in the cold silence of Peter’s bedroom. They dared not utter a word. 

It wasn’t like they needed to anyway, because when Peter tugged away from her embrace unexpectedly and propelled himself up a bit to look at her eyes, words were far from necessary. 

His heart did a weird flip at the sight of her. Her were eyebrows furrowed in confusion after being woken up, her mouth was twitched in a pout and her eyes shined, longing for something he wished he was a part of. 

What he felt in that moment he wasn’t able to put into words. 

He just felt like kissing her.

And hell, he had wasted enough time already.

In retrospect, MJ could’ve probably noticed how Peter scooted closer to her and pressed their lips together hadn’t she been still half asleep. Surprise faded away as her eyes fluttered closed again and she sighed contently, melting away to the kiss. It’d be cheesy to say something in both of them clicked instantly, but then again it really felt like it did.

The kiss itself was chaste and innocent. Perhaps _too_ chaste and innocent, as Peter pulled away too soon for MJ’s liking (she had been dreaming about kissing this nerd since goddamn freshman year, sue her). With newfound bravery, Michelle pulled him back into a deeper, more impatient kiss that left them both breathless after they reluctantly broke away.

_Better._

With their faces now only a few inches apart, Peter allowed himself to take a closer look at her features: the sharp lines of her jaw, the faint blush on her cheeks, her now slightly swollen lips, the little strands of messy, curly hair that fell carelessly over her face… Whether it was her warm, soft gaze or the effect of the dim light of night on her face that made her look so angelic, Peter couldn’t tell. 

Her hand found its way to his back as she snuggled up to him, hugging him again. She had discovered that night she really liked being hugged. Peter wrapped his arms around her gently and nuzzled his head into her neck, happier than he had been in a long time. He had discovered that night he really liked hugging _her_.

He had been so busy falling apart that he hadn't realized falling in love felt infinitely better.

He liked Michelle Jones way too much. 

He had liked her for way too long, too. He felt guilty for not telling her that before he got on a flying donut and flew to space trying to save the world just to fail miserably. Or long before that, really.

He wanted to make up for it. He wanted to tell her.

And so he did.

(Well, so he _tried_ )

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice came out as a soft whisper, as if those words were meant to be said to her and her only. His hands caressed her back in the softest manner and his voice sent chills through her body. “I... Not that I think you’re _just_ beautiful, I mean… you’re also so incredibly smart and kind and…” He rambled nervously.

Yes… he probably should have thought it through first.

_Get it together, Parker._

“Okay so what I’m trying to say is that I-” His words came out a little louder than he expected. MJ repressed a chuckle.

 _Dork._  

She was secretly glad he still kept part of his nerdy self, though. It seemed like nothing could ever take that away from him, not completely.

“I like you too, loser.” MJ interrupted, putting him out of his misery.

 _How couldn’t I?_ She thought. Boy was she whipped.

“I didn't say that… but it works too, I guess.” He joked, full of an annoying amount of confidence MJ did not see coming (but seriously, where did that come from?). She blurted a wholehearted laugh that sounded like pure, sweet honey to Peter. She then may or may not have punched his chest as a proper response to his smug remark. 

In that very moment, her heart was no longer beating like crazy. It was calm instead, intoxicatingly so. She felt at peace, as if things were slowly falling into place. His breath tingled against her neck and her body was still enveloped in his arms. She doubted she’d ever found a better place to be. “Now sleep, Romeo.” She whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Peter sighed in relief. 

Perhaps these wounds he carried would take some time to heal. Perhaps they never would. But he was home. He had his family. He had his friends. He had her.

Things would be okay.

 

\----

 

Neither of them noticed how Aunt May woke up at some point of the night to check up on Peter, or how she went right back to sleep after finding the pair so soundly asleep. Nor did they see the knowing smile that worked its way across her face.

From time to time, as she fell in and out of sleep, MJ felt the grip of Peter’s arms around her tighten, as if he was trying to make sure she really was there. Or as if he knew that she was, but felt terrified at the thought of ever having to let go.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sad (and soft but lets move on from that) and i hate myself for ever thinking it was okay to write this. please scream at me the comments or at @spideydweeb on twitter, i deserve it. 
> 
> (also, i'm not a native english speaker so i'm really sorry if there's any mistakes!!)
> 
> ps: thank you miss tvfanatic97 for helping me proofread it!


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